Five years

I'm not a writer. This is just a coping mechanism recommended to me. everything is pulled from the muddled lines of my notebook from when I ran away.

Please lets try again my friend.

Before you knew the illness, not the man. 

Now hate runs deep from all the bad you've seen.

Please stop taking it personally. 

I'm bipolar, depressed, a nervous wreck, I know it.

It was just too hard not to show it. 

I was put in a situation that amplified my symptoms.

This made you meet my disease,

but not me. 

So in five years, will we try again for more?

Feel these old feelings before showing me the door?

See what the meds can make.

Please cut me a break. 

Meet the man, not the monster.

Meet your old friend, your old love.

All it needs is a good shove. 

Author's Note

Like I said, I'm not a writer. This is just a coping mechanism.

Reviews

[MadisonJR]

I really relate to this. For me I never found the words to explain how my friends saw my illness instead of me at some points. I love your work!